


Pain Is Pleasure

by spellwing777



Category: Forgotten Realms
Genre: Dubious Consent, Dubious Ethics, Dubious Morality, F/M, M/M, S&M, dubious everything, kinkmeme fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-15
Updated: 2014-11-15
Packaged: 2018-02-25 10:19:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2618291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spellwing777/pseuds/spellwing777
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agian, a fill for the Kinkmeme over here http://frkinkmeme.livejournal.com/735.html</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He paused, horrified.

_Oh god, not again._

Cattie Brie spread her legs, enticingly. She was on all fours, facing away from him, so she hadn’t noticed that he was having...equipment problems. She glanced over her shoulder and smiled, the angle mercifully covering him.

“What are ye waitin’ for?” She purred, her voice thrumming as it did. She was a sexual goddess, fair skin flush with pink, her scarce freckles swallowed by a swarm of red. She was entirely enticing, magnificent; she made his mouth go dry with want. All of his body wanted her, from the tips of his tingling ears to his curling toes.  
Except, of course, for the part _that actually goddamn mattered_.

“Admiring the view.” He stalled.

“Mmm..” She tilted her head back. “I hope you do more than just admire.”

He slid his hand up a thigh, then leaned forward, licking his lips. He hoped she wouldn’t notice, wouldn’t ask, because this was third time in a row he would have to use his fingers and mouth to satisfy her. She seemed too forgone at the moment to question him, her moans and cries making him quiver, but his cock still refused to get any more than half hard. He whimpered in frustration, and she echoed his sound, slicking his fingers as she came. Later, he breathed a sigh of relief as she curled against him, drifting into sleep first, leaving him to fret and wish he knew what was wrong with him. He loved her, she was beautiful, she knew all his enerogenous zones by heart; and while he didn’t have much experience outside of her, he was sure their lovemaking was skillful and pleasurable by _anyone’s_ standards.

He sighed, giving up. Perhaps he should just bite the bullet and go see a healer. Maybe it was medical in nature, and not his fault. 

He hoped so.

\---

He knew where he was.

He sighed and bent his head, knowing what was to come. His mother stared at him, body posture relaxed, but eyes like ice, as she sat like the queen of her domain that she was in the antechamber. His sister stood behind him, a little off to the side, and he obediently got to his knees when she pressed down on shoulder. He tried not to shudder as the manacles locked around his wrists.

He kept his eyes on the floor as she snarled condemnations, voice harsh with disappointment. At a flick of her wrist, his sister raised her snake whip, mouth curled with spite that did little to hide the eagerness in her eyes.

He hissed as the first lash struck his back. He gasped at the pain, feeling it roar down his back, the pain foreign and strange.

_Th-those aren’t snakeheads_ His brain stuttered. _It’s a whip, a REAL whip-goddess are they trying to permanently scar me-?_

He jerked up, yelling in pain, hair getting in his eyes and sticking to his mouth. His back arched forward, eyes rolling. This was worse, so much worse than anything else he’d felt. He could deal with the snakeheads, but not this; the vicious stroke of leather strands against his back that left raised welts and beads of blood. The snakes were quick, they were meant to teach a lesson, not to be a weapon of torture; their teeth injected a numbing agent after a few swipes and didn’t scar. 

He flailed, struggling against his bonds, and a horrifying sensation writhed it’s was down to his groin. He was getting _hard_. Every lash dealt made his erection throb in time to the wave of pain in his back, and he sobbed in humiliation as his sister laughed, mocking him. His rolling eyes caught the smirk on his mothers face, and she _knew_ , knew that this was getting him off, and that he was mortified by this. He shied away from her, her mocking words stinging like the lash-

\---

Drizzt jerked into wakefulness, teeth clenched around a sob. He was achingly hard; pressed against his lover, and he gently withdrew to sit at the edge of the bed.

He looked down at it, glaring at his defiant cock, which was working perfectly well- _too well_ -and then looked over at his Cattie Brie, spread so enticing next to him...  
He gritted his teeth. _Goddess, what is **wrong** with me_. He put his head in his arms, strangling a whimper. Why, _why_ was he so hard after a dream of remembered pain and humiliation? 

He jumped as he felt a hand ghost over his back.

“Mmm...I guess you’re still not done.” She grinned up at him. “Want some help with that?”

He panted, pupils shrinking. He couldn’t remember the last time he was this ready; reasons for it be damned, he wanted to finally take her. But even as he eagerly crawled on top of her, he could feel it flagging, and bit his lip in frustration, drawing blood. 

He jerked as he felt his cock twitch in response.

_Oh goddess..._ He felt shame pooling in his stomach. _This is...sick._

But his hand was sliding down, down of its own accord, and he gripped his thigh, fingernails biting into his skin. His other hand twitched on her back; and he suddenly had a vivid image of that hand swinging down, _hard_ leaving a grotesque mark on fair skin. Shame pricked at him, reminding him he was actually getting aroused at the thought of _hurting_ his lover.

His cock throbbed, finally fully erect, and he took the opportunity, shame overridden for the moment, although he knew it would dig his claws into him later. He slid into her roughly, far more violently than he usually did, and relief bubbled through him when the gasp was of pleasure and not pain. That didn’t stop him from brutally fucking her, lips curled in a grimace, as his hand roamed over his body, pinching and scratching. He barely kept his twitching hands off her, refusing to give in to the animalistic urge to do the same to her, or to even let his teeth bury into her skin. At one time he bit his forearm so hard he tasted blood, the copper tang of it making his eyes roll back and his pleasure racket up until he spilled over, shooting inside her.

He remained bent over her, quivering arms barely keeping him from collapsing, as he tried to calm himself. Cattie Brie breathed heavily under him, and he realized to his disgrace he wasn’t sure if she had climaxed or not. He usually put her needs well before his own-the ingrained training of his homeland-and he bent his head near her ear. He opened his mouth, trembling, to ask if he had hurt her, if she had even _enjoyed_ it, but was interrupted by knocking at the door. 

“You two _ready_ yet?” Regis asked, exasperated.

“Be a minute!” Cattie Brie rasped, and he immediately rolled off her, letting her get up to clean herself. Again, he opened his mouth to ask, but she interrupted him

“Come on, get ready.” She said hurriedly. 

His mouth clicked shut, his nerve dashed. He was bad at verbally expressing himself, nervous about it even at the best of times, which was why he loved her in the first place because she could usually read it in his face. But now he smoothed it out, hoping she wouldn’t see his emotions now, because he wasn’t quite ready to deal with them yet.


	2. Chapter 2

Keeping his wants in check was harder than hiding his emotions, however.

On the road, sex with her was limited, which helped, but each time he was left frustrated and wanting. He was sick with the longing he felt; wishing that she would stop with the gentle lovemaking and scratch him, bite him, _anything_ and his frustration eventually made him slip up, his tongue loosened in passion.

“What did you say?” She gasped, stopping abruptly, eyes wide with shock.

He bit down on his tongue, keeping the words back and the sliver of pain sent heat to his groin.

“You want me...to-to _hit_ you?”

“I-I, not...hard.” He tried to backpedal. “Just...a little?”

“Drizzt...” She shook her head slowly, eyes never leaving his face. “ _No._ I’m...not going to hurt you.”

“Please, Cattie-”

She leaned away from him, face pale with shock. “I-I... think we should...stop. For a while.”

She left him, his body rapidly cooling once away from her heat. He choked off a sob, putting his head in his hands.

\---

He trod away with heavy feet. She had stopped him at the gates to Alustriel’s residence, with trembling lip and moist eyes. Her murmured words of- _maybe...we should spend a little time apart. To think-_ cut into him.  
He had thought himself pure of the degenerate, twisted desires of his kin, but apparently he was wrong. How could he possibly _need_ to bring hurt and pain into the most intimate, loving act he could commit with her? That depravity was firmly in the realm of his homeland; which had left behind him. Or so he thought.  
He steps automatically turned towards home; but he stopped, looking bleakly down the road. He shuffled his feet in indecision, then turned again, this time towards the Southern route. If he had learned anything in his life, it was that the road-full of bandits and monsters-was the best medicine to be prescribed. 

\---

He wasn’t _deliberately_ seeking him out. Not entirely.

Just mostly.

Jarlaxle looked over him suspiciously, but the assassin kept his face even. He knew that Jarlaxle was apprehensive as to whether or not he’d swallowed to load of shit that he’d been fed about the ranger being dead. And, quite frankly, he could care less if his suspicions were correct and his former rival _was_ alive or not. He had his closure, he’d moved on, all that ridiculous nonsense. What he wanted, however, was to teach Jarlaxle that one does _not_ attempt to fool the best assassin that Calimshan had to offer and expect it to stick.

He smirked inwardly.

Jarlaxle returned to his original task of studying the ‘help wanted’ board in front of him, annoyed. They were in dangerous territory; far too close to the ranger’s home for comfort and he could _swear_ his associate was hunting the ranger again. Apparently, ‘killing’ him was not satisfaction enough for Entreri. He sighed, pointing at a job.

“This one looks promising.” He said, hoping he would take the bait. It was further to the south, away from where-

“No.” Entreri thumped a finger on a different one. “This one pays better.”

It was also even further to the north. Jarlaxle resisted the urge to grind his teeth, feeling resignation starting to creep in. 

“Very well.” He said tersely. He could have sworn Entreri smirked at him.

\---

Drizzt paused; listening for the slightest sound.

His prey-goblins that had abducted a girl-had gone to ground. Literally. They were taking shelter in a cave; which made him cautious. It was easier to ambush someone above ground, much harder to sneak in a cave with god know how many side tunnels and chambers. And he was alone.

He slid in; knowledge that the ransom was late and the goblin’s propensity to eating human flesh pressing him on. He flitted through the tunnel, moving like ghost, but as it turned out, the stealth was unneeded. The place was empty. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as stood in the middle of the main chamber. Clearly they had abandoned the place, and now he would have to track them down. Again.

He didn’t notice a patch of darkness detach itself from the wall until it was too late.

“Fancy seeing you here.” 

Drizzt’s hands immediately went to his weapons, but the attack didn’t come.

“Considering you’re supposedly dead.” Entreri continued, striding forward.

“And you here to see I stay that way.” He hissed, watching as the man started to circle.

“No.” He said, abruptly changing track, circling left. “My business associate assumed that he could try to pull the wool over my eyes.”

He smirked. “I’m merely here to prove him wrong.”

Drizzt glared, feeling irritated. The long days on the road hadn’t really helped his situation; and the appearance of his rival was the last thing he needed. He threw aside his irritation and refocused on the more important task: finding the kidnapped girl.

“Where is she.” He said through gritted teeth. 

Entreri merely cocked an eyebrow.

“The kidnapped girl.” He hissed, stepping closer.

He smirked, purposely baiting him now. “You act like _I_ should know.”

Drizzt’s eyes blazed. “The goblins have left only recently. You must have seen them.”

“Mmmm. Perhaps.”

Drizzt studied him for a moment, before breathing out a sigh of disgust. He didn’t have time for this; the girl was in danger. He started to move away, keeping an eye on the assassin, trying to leave.

“I don’t have time for your games.” He snapped. “Find a more willing player.”

It really didn’t surprise him that Entreri snarled and attacked; he only grimaced and raised his weapons to block the anticipated slash at his throat or chest...but the blade went wide, obviously not aiming for a killing blow. 

“ _Make_ time.”

Entreri swung around, readying another attack. Originally, he hadn’t had any plan of seriously fighting Drizzt; he still didn’t. 

That didn’t mean he couldn’t torment him a little, though.

Predictably, Drizzt kept on the defensive, trying to race down an exit as the merest opportunity, and he took advantage of that. He even managed to get a loud, humiliating _slap_ to the drow’s ass with the flat of his blade though, and in the flush of victory he nearly missed the abrupt expression twisting Drizzt’s face. It flitted across Drizzt’s face-horror? Disgust? It was so bizarre he couldn’t name it-and the ranger nearly jumped out of his skin, leaving an opening so amateurishly wide that Entreri was so shocked at the horrible slip up that he didn’t take it. Drizzt stood away from him, and was staring at him with widened eyes.

He paused, eying the drow warily. Something...was different. Drizzt was hunched slightly, body language unconsciously expressing feelings of vulnerability and defensiveness. He narrowed his eyes, and approached, and Drizzt backed up, carefully keeping his distance. 

It was almost too easy to herd him like this, further and further away from the two exits, until Drizzt took notice and started fighting in earnest. He was confused-really confused-at the edge of desperation that Drizzt had now; he was leaving openings that he shouldn’t, in his attempt to escape. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion, and decided to repeat his earlier action. Drizzt stumbled, actually _stumbled_ when the flat of his blade met the back of his thigh, making a choking sound. He took the opportunity to do the same to the other thigh, eliciting a high-pitched whine. And this time, Drizzt abandoned all pretenses at fighting him and _ran_ , actually leaving him completely open. Entreri was shocked for a moment; he could have skewered the ranger right then, but had enough presence of mind to take advantage of it. 

He sheathed one weapon, leaving his dagger out. He leaped, bodily tackling the drow to the floor.

“Have you forgotten who you’re fighting?” He hissed in the struggling drow’s ear. “I had no less than seven opportunities to kill you in as many minutes. A back alley mugger could have split you open with the mistakes you’re making!”

Drizzt made an unintelligible noise, bucking.

“PAY ATTENTION!” He roared, using his dagger to slap his thigh again.

He blinked in astonishment as Drizzt arched, going ramrod straight and _god that was a MOAN no, no, nono he didn’t just..._

Entreri jumped off like a scalded cat-sounding like one too-and Drizzt also jumped up, blades held to swing...no...not swing. Block. Block the view of his...

His jaw worked, trying to form words. Finally he said.

“...You sick bastard.” Entreri breathed, in shock.

Drizzt’s face took on a pinched, horrified expression, seconds before he turned and fled.


	3. Chapter 3

Drizzt wanted to scream in frustration. It had been days since his encounter with Entreri, and he still was waking up hard, dreams of pain and pleasure fading from his waking mind. So far he had been able to tamp down his arousal with the knowledge that he was lusting after _his enemy._ The same man that kidnapped his wife, removed some of Regis’ fingers, and hunted him like an animal. But he couldn’t ignore his body completely; and he kept having flashes of his homeland. Flashes of their willingness to sleep with whoever pleased them, casually having sex with mortal enemies, perhaps addicted to the thrill of danger and the spike of intensity that hate gave.

He pressed the heels of his hand into his eyes until he saw stars. His erection was pressed uncomfortably against his stomach, refusing to subside, and only intensified when the press of his hands against his eyes became uncomfortable. Red webs shone across the backs of his eyelids, and he half-saw the writhing silhouettes of his kin, rutting without care or conscience. He wrapped his arms around his knees and tried not to listen to a hissing voice that spoke from his past and sounded suspiciously like the drow woman that had propositioned him when he’d returned to the underdark on that suicide mission _-Oh come on, let’s have a bit of fun_ -and pressed his forehead against his knees.

“...You sick bastard.” Drizzt muttered.

\---

“You seem distracted, Abbil.”

Entreri looked back at Jarlaxle, and shrugged. “Thinking.”

“A penny for your thoughts, then.” Jarlaxle said, smiling as friendly as he could. He hadn’t been able to coax very many words out of the assassin, but he had a sneaking suspicion that Entreri was planning something.

“Planning our next course of action.”

“With the case of the missing girl?”

Entreri just waved his hand dismissively, eyes roving slowly over the windows of the inn they were walking past, to the third window on the second floor, whose curtains were open a crack.  
He smirked when the curtain was tugged closed.

\---

He waited for nightfall, when the shadows gathered.

He had long since learned how to disappear unnaturally in the shadows, the shade essence he’d consumed through his dagger garnering him a huge bonus to his ability to hide. His target didn’t notice him until too late, much like last time.

“Drizzt.”

The drow stopped, and sighed. He really wasn’t surprised, not after what had happened in the cave. He slowly turned, resigned to an awkward, stilted conversation about his...perversions.  
Entreri, predictably, had his weapons drawn, and was poised ready to strike at him. His eyes weren’t full of anger, however. He seemed surprisingly calm.

“Explain.” He said, in a quiet, demanding tone.

Drizzt grimaced. “As much as I would have liked to leave the trappings of my life in Menzobarranzan behind, it seems that some of their...perversions...have not.”

Entreri stepped closer, peering closely at him. “Those perversions aren’t just in drow society.”

Drizzt gave him a disbelieving look. “I have difficulty imagining any surface race finding _pain_ stimulating.”

“Some do.” Entreri explained, starting to circle. Drizzt lifted his weapons, the dull anxiety already in his stomach starting to peak.

“There are whores on most street corners that know how to bear a whip, or to handle one.”

“And you have...experience with that?” Drizzt asked, not really asking out of curiosity, but just to keep Entreri talking. He was afraid what might come in the silence at the end of this conversation.

Something shifted behind those eyes, and the assassin drew closer. 

“Some.” He rasped. “Experience.”

Drizzt was near the door now; he experimentally lifted a hand to go for the doorknob, expecting an attack, but Entreri just stood there. He put his hand on the knob, and started to turn it, but was interrupted by Entreri.

“I’ll leave.” He licked his lips, an unintentional gesture that was suddenly obscene. “If you want me too.”

Drizzt paused.

“And if you ask me too, you will never see me again.” He continued.

“...Why are you offering this?”

“Because-” His lips lifted, revealing sharp white teeth- _’made for biting’, the thought sprang up, unbidden, in his mind_ -“I want you to ask me to stay.”

“And why would I do that?”

Entreri cocked his head to the side, an almost pitying look in his eyes- _I’m so sorry that your such a slow study, your father must be very disappointed_ -and Drizzt gritted his teeth.

“I...your my _enemy_ goddess damn you, you’ve tried to kill me, my friends-”

Entreri leaned as close as he dared. “I walk out that door; you will never see me again. I will not give you a second opportunity. _And I’m starting to get impatient._ ”

Drizzt sucked in a breath. Nodded.

Entreri’s breath misted over his neck, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

“Say it.”

He swallowed. “Yes.”

“...Stay.”

\---

Clothes had been stripped in a quick, businesslike manner, not even looking at each other. He tried to wrap his arms around the assassin, and leaned in for a tentative kiss; but he just bit the drow’s lip savagely.

“I am not your lover.” He snarled. “Leave those revolting sentimentalities with your wife.”

Drizzt jerked, anger-fueled by shame-coiling in his belly. He leaned back a little, glaring at the assassin coldly, before biting spitefully at Entreri’s neck. 

The man only grunted in pleasure and squeezed his ass with both hands, lifting him an inch off the floor. Rubbed their hips together callously.

“Yes.” He hissed. “Better.”

Drizzt felt shame pool in his stomach, but it didn’t override his arousal. He was becoming aroused more quickly than he even had in his life; it was almost leaving him dizzy-

He yelped when a hand slapped his ass.

“Pay attention.” Entreri snapped. “Don’t let your thoughts wander.”

Drizzt glared at him, raised his chin defiantly. Just because he was consenting to have sex with the assassin, did not mean he was a slave to him. When Entreri narrowed his eyes, he thought he might attack him again, but he only smiled widely, approvingly. He belatedly realized that the assassin liked his defiance. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. But his expression suddenly went serious.

“I mean it; pay attention.” He said. “As ironic as it sounds, I don’t want to truly hurt you.”

Drizzt somehow managed to keep in a sarcastic remark.

“Obviously, you like a little pain with your pleasure.” He hissed in one ear, making him shiver. “But I don’t know how much you like.”

“I was whipped in the underdark.” He hissed back; relishing the assassins moan. “By a leather cat-o-nine tails; not the snakeheads. I am quite tolerant of pain.”  
He panted as the man kissed and nipped at his neck for a bit, and then continued

“In this game, people will scream and cry out ‘no’ and ‘stop’ and all sorts of things; without actually meaning them. You must have a word that will let me know you mean it.” He licked up the side of his neck. “When the pain goes the wrong side of unpleasant.”

Then he leaned back, dangling a charm on a string in front of his face. “And don’t worry. I ‘borrowed’ this from Jarlaxle.”

He leaned back in. “You can be a loud as you like.”

Drizzt watched the swing of it, hypnotized for a moment. Then he looked back at the assassin. 

“Guenhwyvar.”


	4. Chapter 4

\---

Drizzt was soon pressed to the bed, hands tied together and to the headboard. Somehow, in his distracted state he’d missed the rope. It wasn’t too restraining; he had enough slack in the tether to allow him to roll onto his side or even onto his back if he wished, and if he was _really_ desperate he could wiggle his hands out of the bonds. It was just rope, plain hemp not steel, and it had some give. He didn’t struggle against the bonds, however. He assumed it was part of the scenario; and it was also, shamefully, starting to arouse him. He had been restrained in a similar manner when he’d been whipped, and the feel of something wrapped around his wrists was forever associated with that strange mix of pain and pleasure. 

His eye’s bulged when he realized that his bonds had a purpose other than just pleasure.

The flat of the vampiric dagger’s blade laid against his chest; the metal unnaturally cold. If not for the ropes, Drizzt surely would have tried to attack the man. As it was he had no choice but to lay still as he could, barely breathing, as the cool metal rested on his chest, rising and falling slightly with his breath.

“In all our confrontations, my dagger never got to have a taste of you.” He murmured lazily. He started to trace the winter-sharp tip on his skin; outlining the muscles, the dips in between the ribs, the hollow in his collar bone.

“It’s not sentient.” He said, still unnaturally calm, eyes following the path of the blade. “But it does...hunger.”

His eyes flicked up to meet Drizzt’s until he was forced to look back; and yelped out in surprise when the flat of the blade struck his thigh.

“Of course,” He went back to idly tracing along the skin. “I don’t possess a whip; but you seemed to like my dagger well enough. And, perhaps, it will be satisfied with the taste of your sweat.”

Entreri pressed the dagger against the thrumming pulse point in his neck; and smiled.

“Then again, it might not.”

He sucked in a breath, shivering. He feared that knife; but to his confusion the danger of it piqued his arousal further. And, looking at the assassin’s face; realized that was the point. 

_How does he **know** that?_

He was unable to think about it any further as the blade was forgotten for the moment; thumbs stroking and pinching his nipples. Sharp teeth worried at the skin, until he felt that he was sure to draw blood; withdrawing before he did. He moaned in disappointment; shame coiling in his belly when he realized that he _wanted_ to be bitten so hard he bled-

And, as if he heard the thought, the human bit down, hard; right at the juncture between neck and shoulder. Drizzt yelled, and he withdrew, teeth stained slightly pink and lips smeared with blood. He kissed him roughly then, forcing the copper taste into his mouth, and he licked and sucked greedily.

\---

“You like the taste of blood, I see.” Entreri withdrew, running a tongue along his teeth. 

“So do you.” He retorted.

Drizzt jerked his head up to savagely bite the human; leaving a bloody mark on his jaw. He moaned, his head arching back and exposing the soft, tender throat. He readily took the opening, latching onto the skin and worrying it with his teeth. This was a favorite enerogenous zone of the ranger’s, on both his own body and in touching his partners. In tune with savage animals, he loved the venerable curve of the throat; the defensiveness and dominance in grabbing and biting such a sensitive area resonated in a deep, primal way.

Entreri was only able to make a strangled, growling sound around the teeth, starting to move his hips against the ranger. Drizzt made a pleased hum, realizing that this was also a favorite spot of the assassin’s, and started to move lower, nipping and sucking at the skin. He reached the collar bone and laved at the hollow; the ropes stopping him from going any further.

After a while of enjoying the feel of his mouth and the friction between their hips, he withdrew again, smirking at the whine.

“Listen to you whine.” He grinned. “If only your wife could see you now; begging for me.”

Again, the biting shame. Shame like he’d had decades ago, writhing helplessly on the cold stone floor while his sister laughed at him. The rough chuckle from the human’s throat was just as humiliating, and he was confused again as it only made his arousal worse. He was learning more things about his sickness than he ever wanted to know; and it perversely terrified him and excited him.

Entreri seemed oblivious to this, or at least more interested in moving on to more stimulating things, because he was moving off him again. He was sliding further down his body; and he tensed, shivering in anticipation of the feel of wet lips around his cock-

He did lick the tip, yes, but he quickly moved on-sucking and licking all the way-down to his balls. He briefly sucked one into his mouth, and Drizzt moaned happily; but he quickly moved down further. And here the blade of the dagger returned; scratching delicately at the sensitive skin just past his balls, alternating with a tongue. He reached back up with one hand, forcing a few fingers into the drow’s mouth. He sucked at them obediently, nibbling and biting them as the assassin continued scraping the skin with the blade. The shivery sensation of the cold tip made his balls draw up, his skin trying to creep away from the sensation. He wasn’t sure he liked it; the feel of a cold blade on his skin, but by the look on Entreri’s face, this must be a kink of his. 

He moaned when a velvety tongue swiped at his entrance, and then the fingers were removed. He swallowed heavily as he knew, now, what his next move would be.

He was not disappointed. The first finger went in slowly; his body was so tense it was difficult to relax. The second was slightly easier; but still difficult, the spit not nearly enough. Entreri took pity on him, thankfully. He reached for his clothes and was able to draw out a small bottle of oil. 

“Came prepared.” He grinned at the drow,

Drizzt narrowed his eyes. “I could have said no.”

“You could have.” He sounded smug. “But you didn’t.”

Preparation was brief, and soon two fingers were back inside of him; and he hooked them. At almost the same moment, the blade slapped down, making him tighten hard around the fingers. That, of course, pressed his prostrate hard on the tips of his fingers; stimulating him almost painfully. He repeated this again and again, until Drizzt was moaning and rolling his hips. He paused briefly and tried to push a third finger into him, but he was still too tight.

“As much as you like pain,” He husked, voice roughened by his obvious arousal. “I don’t want to tear you. You need to relax.”

“C-cant.” Drizzt gasped. “This...too much!”

He paused, thinking. His cock twitched in eagerness, precum dripping from the tip; but he had enough control not to just give in and shove himself into the drow. That would be too much pain, even for Drizzt. He needed to stretch him-

He grinned.

Drizzt chocked; almost recoiling from the smooth, cool press of metal.

“G-going too far with that dagger!” He spluttered. “Its-it’s not _meant_ for that!”

Entreri gripped his erection, already an angry red and slick, despite not even touching it. “Would you rather I just impaled you now?”

He flushed, looking at the thick length, and shook his head.

Entreri continued, slowly maneuvering the metal shaft of the daggers grip into him. It was about the thickness of three fingers; but smoother and stiffer, easier to push inside. It toke an agonizingly long time, but finally Drizzt relaxed and it slid the rest of the way much easier. For a moment he let it sit; pinching the dark nipples, scraping his nails along the range’s ribs, slapping his ass and then stroking it...until Drizzt was moaning and writhing, hips rolling.

_Then_ he started to move the improvised toy.

Drizzt panted and moaned; the metal was cold, never warmed to his skin, and that should have been uncomfortable, but instead it...helped. It made him acutely _aware_ of it; could feel every inch of it. He shivered, and wished that the metal was a little more flexible however; it could only brush his prostrate, not curve in and stimulate it directly like fingers had. He had closed his eyes without realizing it; and jerked when he felt ragged fingernails bite into his ass and a harsh ‘open your eyes’ hissed at him. He did, and was treated to the sight of the assassin stroking his cock; dark eyes staring directly into his, unblinking.

“Ready?” Entreri’s voice wavered slightly; lust distorting the harsh rasp.

He sucked in a breath and nodded.

“On your knees and elbows then.”

Drizzt glared at him; still defiant. Entreri only curled his lips and jerked the dagger out; making him bite the inside of his cheek to strangle a moan. Slowly, he rolled onto his side, taking his time, until the assassin slapped him across the face impatiently.

“Stop stalling.” He snapped. “I know this is what you want; so stop pretending.”

Drizzt still paused; then it was his turn to smile. “Why should I?”

Entreri cocked his head, slightly puzzled.

“You like it.”

Entreri narrowed his eyes; and might have made a retort but he ignored the assassin to get into the ordered position. And now he was silenced by the sight of the drow’s hips in the air, thighs spread wide, waiting for him. He swallowed thickly, and almost jumped him right there but he forced himself to enjoy the view, lightly stroking his cock.

The drow looked over his shoulder. “Are you going to just watch?”


	5. Chapter 5

He snarled unintelligibly and crawled over him; one hand clutching his shoulder so hard it would bruise, and the other wrapping into his hair. Drizzt’s head was pulled back and to the side, until he was staring at the assassin. He shivered as he felt the thick length rub against him. The drow knew he wanted him to beg, but he decided to again play up the defiant act, and only glared.

...But he _did_ move his hips.

Barely, teasingly, he rolled them, all the while daring the assassin to take him. He watched, inwardly fascinated at the look on Entreri’s face changed from controlling and demanding, to glazed and slack as he slowly lost control.

Finally, he licked his lips and swiftly moved away slightly, the hand on his shoulder going to his cock, lining it up. And the drow was treated to the pleasurable burn of the blunt tip working its way in, forcing its way past the ring of muscle, until the whole length was inside him. Drizzt panted, and shifted slightly, trying to adjust. It was...uncomfortable. He had never had anything other than one or two of his own fingers inside of him (Cattie-brie had NOT been interested) and he had never had any other lovers, not to mention a male one. This would...take some getting used to.

“Do. Not. _Move_.” Entreri hissed through gritted teeth.

He stilled immediately. As soon as he did, the human pulled out slowly, then pushed back in, just as slowly. He continued to do this, and Drizzt couldn’t stop himself from shivering, uncontrollable tremors wracking his body, as the curved tip of his cock rubbed and stroked his prostrate, almost striking it directly. He moaned, and finally he shifted a little, widening his stance so the angle was better.

“ _I told you not to move._ ” The assassin hissed, a palm striking his thigh, hard.

He tensed, and almost immediately cried out; clenching around the blunt tip had ground it directly against his prostrate, and it sent throbbing bolt of pleasure into his own cock. Hoping to goad him to do it again, he bucked his head like a disobedient horse. Again, Entreri rewarded him with a slap and a drag of his blunt nails on his ass. The assassin moaned in pleasure when the muscles tightened around his erection, and started thrusting in earnest; striking him repeatedly, to make the drow writhe and spasm around him. Drizzt was soon wailing, the curved tip hitting that spot on every inward thrust, his cock drooling precum onto the sheets.

“Touch me!” He sobbed, desperate. He was close, so close to tipping over...

The assassin ignored him; either because he wanted to make him come from penetration alone, or just to be cruel, he wasn’t sure. Soon, Entreri reached his tipping point; and Drizzt’s breath was forced from his lungs as the man curled over him, arms wrapping painfully tight around his ribs. His forehead pressed against the headboard as the assassin’s thighs slapped loudly against his own.

When the assassin came, it was with a surprisingly quiet, rather strangled, grunt. He felt a flush of warmth trickle into him; and had he enough presence of mind he might have been guilty shamed at how much he enjoyed it, but that ship had sailed. He only moaned with loss when Entreri roughly pulled himself out, and then whimpered as an arm around his hips kept him from grinding against the mattress for relief.

Entreri gazed, heavy lidded, at the sight in front of him; wishing he had a way to preserve it. The drow’s erection was brushing against his arm, he was whimpering like a whipped dog; and his ass was up like a bitch in heat. He bore evidence of being thoroughly used; scratches and bites, bruises darkening his already dark skin...and best of all, a slick of cum on his entrance, drops of it sliding down his thighs.

Of course, distracted by this, he didn’t notice the drow’s slender wrists work their way out of their bonds. He was also too loose-boned to put up much of a fight when he was grabbed and pinned under a very aroused and suddenly dominating ranger. He was now on his side, a hand on his neck and another on his wrists; and a very hard, slick cock pressed against his ass.

“Do _you_ have a safeword?” He snarled.

“C-Ch-Charon.” He managed to gag around the grip on his throat.

The hand on his throat moved, this time to lift one of his legs and to hook his knee over the drow’s shoulder. His eye’s widened when he realized what the ranger had in mind.

“ _Charon!_ ”

Drizzt’s pupils had narrowed to pinpricks with lust, but thankfully he did stop.

“Oil.” He gasped. “Need some oil.”

Drizzt blinked rapidly, working himself out of the fog somewhat; and grabbed the forgotten vial nearby. Quickly he coated his fingers, and preparation was brief, and rough. Soon the grip on his wrists and neck was back; the fingers around his throat not completely cutting off his ability to speak or breathe, but it sent a thrill through him. He had a brief vision of those hand tightening and some part of him said sarcastically _‘well, I guess it’s not just Drizzt learning about some new kinks of his tonight, hmm?’_

And then he hissed in surprise and pain when the drow thrust his way inside. He liked it rough, though, and this was just slightly pushing the boundaries of tolerance in the right way, and soon he was gasping around the tight grip on his throat. He had never had sex in this position, on his side with one leg thrown out, toes curling; while the other thrown over a shoulder, the position allowing him to squeeze the drow between thigh and calf, to draw him closer until his own knee was pressed against his ribs. He was soon enjoying it; the position allowing for deep downward thrusts.

All too soon, though, Drizzt was pressing his hips so hard to the assassin his lower abs shook and quivered; going as deep as he could, to release inside of him. Entreri shuddered, half-hard, even though he had just cum himself. His own stomach muscles spasmed too, when the ranger withdrew. He was too spent, however, to do anything but loll bonelessly when the drow pulled away completely.

For a moment, neither of them did anything but breathe.

Then, with a hoarse voice, Drizzt spoke.

“...Get out.”

It was probably meant to be a spiteful hiss, but his voice chocked at the end.

Entreri only curled a lip in satisfied contempt; and didn’t reply. He gathered his gear in silence, briefly looking back at the ranger; who was curled on his side, facing away from him. 

He ran a gloved hand down the smooth flank, and patted it patronizingly.

“Give my regards to Cattie, wont you?” He grinned at the sight of the once-proud ranger curl away from him, hiding his face in the sheets.

\---

Jarlaxle stared at him, face a look of bewilderment. “What happened to your _face?_ ”

Entreri stroked a hand absentmindedly over the bloody tooth marks on his jaw line. He smiled a little, and relished the look on his business partner’s face.

“Nothing.”

Jarlaxle glared suspiciously at him for a long time, before finally speaking.

“...There is a job waiting for us in Calimshan.” He said slowly, meaningfully.

“Sounds good.” He said, airily, and only smirked at the continuing look of suspicion. 

“Would you mind informing me what is truly going on?” Jarlaxle hissed, angrily.

He had to lean back hastily as the face of his associate quickly changed into a deadly menacing look.

“Would you mind informing **me** what truly went on in the shard?” 

He paused, staring levelly at the assassin, lips pressed into a thin line.

“I didn’t think so.” Entreri said, contemptuously.

He turned away from the mercenary; and they rode without another word back to the south.


End file.
